emotional structure, the transformational character arc, and developmental edits

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Another day, another two finals

I finally got to the point where AMP didn't hold me up, so I took a nap. Thank God my kid called. When I stagger into bed, family is the only thing that can get me up. So many hours lost--not that I was working at full capacity. Toward the end of a work jag, it's like I'm swimming in corn syrup. That whole molasses thing doesn't work. It's way too thin.

I can tell it's getting warmer because it's that time of year when people give me dirty looks and notepads. I write on my arm--usually in sharpie. Like most writers I have this tendency to write on napkins and scraps of paper. Like the sleep-deprived, bleary-eyed person I really am--I put them "somewhere safe" and lose them. A sharpie works. A pen? A little less so because ink blurs.

If I were younger I'd be--I dunno. What do you call that weird friend that doesn't brush her hair--except when needed--chugs energy drinks and freaks you out with totally random comments? The downside of growing old. People treat you like you're a little lacking.

"there there" *pat pat* "did you need a notepad?"

*sigh*

That law class winds up tonight. With any luck I won't see my group ever again. Pretty happy. I don't think I was ever that arrogant, and I know I was never as high as that one kid. I want to give him the "mom" lecture. "At least febreeze yourself before going out in public." And get some visine. That happy, glassy stare is a little freaky.